


Heart of Gold

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Bilbo is John basically sort of, Crossover, Fusion, Gen, Sherlock is Smaug, Smauglock, balin shows up, gandalf mentions, i don't know what this is, not really - Freeform, the focus is not the dwarves, too many adjectives, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10837524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: If Smaug was a little more like Sherlock, things would have gone differently.





	1. Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Forewarning: I've only seen half of the first movie! So it's more like the book. Actually, the reason this is so wordy for me is because I was reading the Hobbit when I was inspired to write this. Sooo. Anyway, I'm rather shy about this one but I hope you enjoy!

The great red beast curled around the piles of shining gold and jewels, long whiplike tail twisting and shimmering almost as much as the precious stones winking in the pale glow of the dim torchlight. Another moment passed, a snuff of smoke puffed from the massive dragon's nostrils as it turned in it's slumber. However since the two eventful visits from Barrel-Rider, Ringwinner, and Luckwearer, Smaug was cautious of one who smartly refused to reveal his name given at birth, as he tiptoed cleverly passed the question with intriguing riddles and enchanting puzzles that distracted the frequently bored dragon. Well, ever since then, the gigantic lizard had slept with one eye open.

Obviously the Thief would be quite cautious after his first true encounter with the scaled beast, Smaug had let his temper get the better of him and had sent a teasing tongue of flame after the careful riddler when the Thief had given the parting shot, "Ponies take some catching, I believe, after a long start. And so do burglars."

A lazy multicolored eye, nearly as big as a dwarf was tall, slid open at the sudden strong smell. The Thief was quick and clever and quiet, but he could not stop the strange unfamiliar meadow/aged paper/pipe weed smell that had settled around his form like a cloud that was far more telling than the noisiest of men and their ugly sweat/dirt/beer scent.

Smaug huffed, the other eye opening slowly, "Don't be afraid, Little Thief. As long as you don't make any more unfortunate and distasteful quips all will be forgotten."

The cautious voice that cracked and that Smaug had come to know rather well, answered, "O Mighty Magnificent Smaug, I would not deign to laugh at your expense."

Smaug, however, had grown bored with flattery, which was an uncommon thing in dragons. Most of the terrible yet beautiful creatures could listen endlessly to man and beasts praising their glory and majesty in a desperate attempt to appease the dragon's vanity. However, Smaug was uncommon even among his own kind. He enjoyed flattery but not to a ridiculous extent, he was always far more clever than most of his species. He had even, through the course of countless centuries, become learned and well versed in the magical arts.

"I grow bored of your flattery, Thief. Tell me stories of your adventures, I know you come from a far away land where even I have not yet walked, but I do not know the tale of how such a person as you made your way into the mouth of my mountain."

The invisible Thief paused and then the voice curiously murmured to itself something that sounded like, 'Cheer up, at least he's not trying to eat you.' A notable gulp and then a worried, 'yet.'

There was another second wherein Smaug had just made up his mind to snap angrily at the Burglar to hurry up about his tale when he began, "Well it was in the spring when this whole unfortunate journey was brought to my attention." A pause and then, "I being known for my..." A cough, "Adeptness at being able to remain undetectable was known of, yet I did not- don't- enjoy using it."

Smaug tilted his great scaly head and questioned, "Do all of your people have the ability to remain unseen by the eyes of living creatures?"

"Uh, no. Just me. Now, we, my people I mean, don't enjoy adventuring. In fact at the moment I would rather just be at home, smoking a pipe and blowing smoke rings in the cool of the evening." Smaug relaxed as the Thief's words of the warm sun and azure sky and open meadows full of heather flowed over him like a rushing roaring stream of cool water. He had never intended to enjoy himself so throughly, but it had been a literal age since the dragon had any creature willing to engage in conversation. Smaug had always used his magics to learn more about the world around him, but the centuries of growing fat on the greed of Thror's treasures had clouded his keen mind. Now, the Thief's story of wicked goblins and fearsome spiders, endless dark woods and majestic misty mountains, and tall elven halls full of laughter and beautiful singing awakened the desire to learn, something he had not possessed in quite some time.

After many long hours, the Thief's voice croaked to a halt. When the constant enchanting spell the small Thief had been weaving with his winsome words stuttered awkwardly to a halt, Smaug lifted his horned head with something that resembled a rough bashfulness, "My apologies Ringwinner, Barrel-Rider, and Luckwearer, you have been talking for far too long and your transport is in need of a rest. Go and return once your voice has found its way back to you."

Smaug paused as he heard a single faint step pattering away. It was enough for the lizard to deduce that while smaller, the creature was the owner of abnormally large feet. The enormous dragon began before the Burglar of the dwarves was out of earshot, "You may take but one treasure to satisfy the dwarf's gold lust."

Smaug could practically smell the fear, uncertainty, and grateful astonishment roiling off of the unseeable Thief. The small one, still invisible, picked up a large blood red ruby and spoke in his strained hoarse voice, "You have my gratitude, O Great One." And for the first time, the fire breathing beast believed that he meant it.

* * *

 

Bilbo hurried back along the hot steaming passage, sweat trickling down the back his neck along the edge of his worn and frayed buttonless waistcoat. He finally emerged into the cool night air and was greeted by the frantic worry of thirteen dwarves. Well, eleven, Bombur and Bifur having fallen into an exhausted asleep.

Bilbo was quite unable to tell them what had happened, his voice having been left far behind in the glittering caverns and heart stopping might of the terrible Smaug. Luckily, the dwarves understood his wild gesticulations for water and food, which they brought out quickly. It took some time and many breaks between words, but Bilbo told them a little of how he'd distracted the dragon and gotten them a part of the treasure, which he produced from his pockets. That distracted them from asking the halfling burglar the details of how he had gotten his voice quite so sore and why he had been gone for so long.

For some reason, Mr. Baggins felt uncomfortable divulging what had transpired in the unfathomable carved halls of Thorin's deceased forefathers.

Bilbo finished his food while the dwarves admired the recovered treasure from the ancient halls and the hobbit felt just a little uncomfortable at the boundless greed shining in their eyes. He settled in for the night and fell fast asleep, only to be troubled by nightmares of fiery flashing eyes and snapping jaws and the endless sound of the Thrush bird knock-knock-knocking a seeming warning against the cold hard stone of the Lonely Mountain. 


	2. Transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rare elusive creature known a 'plot' still fails to appear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I have no idea what I'm doing

It was only two days later when Bilbo Baggins returned to the clever dragon waiting for him, retracing his hurried nervous footsteps from his three previous visits. For some reason, the sense of apprehension had been replaced by a vague anticipation for the time to come.

However, when the now invisible hobbit poked his curly head into the room, it was suspiciously and amazingly empty. There was no sign of the miles long lizard with great curled leather wings stretched across miles of muscle and sinew and scarlet scales.

In fact, the stifling heat of dragon and the warmth they produced was gone, leaving an empty cold space where it had once resided. Bilbo gaped and ventured a step or two in. He tentatively called, "Smaug?" His feeble quiet voice held pathetically in the air for a few moments before dissipating like the reptile's smothering smoke.

Wherever the dragon had gone, Bilbo decided he dare not tempt fate any further and he prepared to beat a hasty retreat. A smooth voice echoed from the pile of jewels and gold, "Where are you going, little Burglar?"

Bilbo paused. That voice had not been the rumbling, gruff, and thundering cadence of Smaug, whose voice was so like the rolling and battering of the stone giants from many months ago. In fact, it was more like a man's, a cold and deep baritone that was far quieter compared to Smaug's deep dragon voice.

He turned and his eyes widened at the sight of a man suddenly appeared before him, flapping great bat wings behind him. The man, for he was a man, scrutinized the general area where the hobbit was standing. The man was tall, like the fair elves of Rivendell but more of an arrogant scornful beauty. His wild black-as-pitch hair curled over high arching cheekbones and pale skin. Small barely visible horns poked out over the unruly hair while a long red tail dragged along the coins and faded ruby scales poked out in patches at places along the edge of his skin.

The terrified halfling put together the pieces when the man blinked familiar multicolored eyes. He was in fact seeing this with his own two eyes. Knowing that his voice would tell almost immediately where he was, Bilbo, on instinct, slipped off his ring, the golden object sliding soundlessly and seamlessly into his pocket. Smaug, somehow impossibly in the form of a man, blinked in surprise.

The first words the former lizard uttered were, "You are much smaller than I calculated little Thief."

"I- I... Smaug?"

"I would've thought that you would have figured that out by now, Barrel-Rider. Sometimes you are as stupid as the people of this world."

Bilbo flushed, embarrassed and keenly aware of how he barely even came to the former dragon's hip, "How are you in the form of man?"

The dragon, clearly unused to clothes, adjusted the black robes in blatant agitation, "You tremble far too much when I am in my true and terrible form. I can understand why you feel such awe in the face of my power, but I have grown tiresome of it. My temporary transformation is made possible because I am talented in the art of magic."

Smaug stooped to examine the suddenly frozen thief, "I still do not know what you are, Thief."

Bilbo was not sure if he should tell the dragon what he was or if it was safe to even reveal his name. What if the dragon should venture to the Shire out of curiosity? Smaug sensed Bilbo's unease and the still dangerous dragon snorted, "Fear not, Thief I will not pursue you, unless of course, you offend me."

The small hobbit, who had grown so much since the fateful spring spoke boldly to the dragon he never would have even dreamed of before, "Bilbo Baggins of Bag End."

Smaug circled the small creature, "Yes, Thief- Bilbo, but what are you?"

"I am a hobbit."

Smaug stopped and fluttered his wings before he settled in the coins abruptly, the treasure clattering in a sudden unexpected cacophony of noise, "I am intrigued. Tell me about these hobbits."

Bilbo eyed the man worriedly, but he settled down too. Smaug was right, he was far less intimidating only three times as tall as he was, not twenty dozen or so.

A minute later, somehow and in some way, they had relaxed and Bilbo told stories of hobbits and halflings and their great propensity for good food and drink. He told Smaug of tall grass, and the great tree, of his cozy hobbit hole, of the soft whispering winds and the blooming delicate flowers. Of summer and fishing and pipe weed on a warm night, of the twinkling stars shining clearly over the merry place, of small rosy cheeked children and the pleasantly rounded folk common to the place that he called home.

In the end, after they had parted ways, Smaug miraculously parting with just a little more of his treasure in exchange for Bilbo's stories, he realized that he ached for something more. Smaug no longer truly wished for his treasure of gold and precious jewels, he longed for adventures and beautiful lands and far off places, and more importantly he wished that someone was there to share it with him. Smaug jolted out of his thoughts before he shook his head and transformed back into the powerful form of the great dragon. However, he found that he preferred his smaller self, when he could see the Thief, Bilbo, far clearer.

* * *

 

Bilbo did not feel relieved to be back among the dwarves. Thror's gold had cast a deadly spell over the party of fourteen. Their increasing gold lust and never ending greed put Bilbo on edge. When they had been several weeks on the ledge, they had grown bold, speaking loudly of the many ways in which they would kill the fearsome dragon. Mr. Baggins felt that he was doing most of the work though. The small pile of sparkling treasures he'd gathered sat among the luggage, constantly taken out and admired during the day.

Smaug had tamed quite considerably, even though his dragon-like characteristics remained as a constant reminder that Bilbo was not merely chatting with a good friend, but a vicious fire breathing beast that could turn on him at any moment. Still, slowly, over the gradual passing of time, they grew to become used to each other and began to talk quite freely, so much so that any would be astonished to hear their conversations, which were as casual as any day to day, hobbit to hobbit interaction.


	3. Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the ending is stupidly sappy but I couldn't avoid it

Balin walked Bilbo to a little ways down the dark passageway, he had felt rather guilty for letting Bilbo venture alone into the dragon's den day after day, while they waited admiring the gold and treasures he had provided them. Bilbo paused, still feeling a little annoyed at the amount of noise his friend couldn't help making. The hobbit nodded ahead at the red glow in the mouth of ominous passageway, "This is where I get off, I'm afraid."

Balin tugged on the end of his beard and spoke gruffly before he turned to trudge slowly back up the lengthy passageway, "You truly possess a heart of gold, Master Baggins. We will be forever grateful."

When Balin was but a shadow among shadows, Bilbo (no longer attempting to be stealthy) trotted down the rest of the passageway, emerging into Smaug's great cavern. He searched for any sign of the dragon in form of man but he could not find the tall black figure. He scratched his curly haired head in puzzlement as he turned, voice echoing in the vastness of the gold laden chamber, "Smaug?"

There was a rumble and great heat. Something caught the poor hobbit up under his arms and lifted him off the ground, Bilbo let out a startled yelp of surprise, a great flaming scarlet scaled claw with huge sharp talons longer than the silver gleaming spears of man gripped him by the waist. He was barely able to let out anymore signs of protest or even a struggle before he was unceremoniously plopped onto the pile of treasure. A bright flash of light blinded him before there was much rustling and Smaug in form of a man slid to a stop beside Bilbo.

The halfling wheezed, a hand splayed across his ragged buttonless waistcoat, "Please don't do that again."

Smaug smirked in a mischievous manner before he tilted his head, quite like a puzzled cat and asked curiously, eyes flashing, "Is it true what that dwarf said?"

Bilbo's brows furrowed, a little irked that the dragon had been so easily able to hear them coming. It was no doubt why he'd laid in wait unawares. Bilbo had found early on that Smaug had a tiresome tendency to enjoy scaring Bilbo and making him jump into the air. The hobbit coughed and asked, mind tracing over the already foggy details of the meaningless conversation, "What did he say?"

A long fair finger poked at his coat, "That you have a heart of gold. How come you've hidden this from me? I do not yet possess a 'heart of gold' and I would greatly desire to have it."

Bilbo shooed the dragon's hands away, struggling to say something about Smaug's misconception. However, the only intelligible thing that came out of his sputtering was, "Well- well you can't have it."

Smaug frowned, a petulant and offended expression forming, "Why not? I've always taken everything that I want-"

Bilbo decided it was in his best interest to stop this train of thought, "It's a figure of speech, I don't really have a heart of gold, it's just something people say-"

Smaug shook his head, standing up with a jolt, scales growing vibrant and burning red, "It surely would not be too much trouble for me to acquire this heart of gold-"

Bilbo sighed and rubbed his face. He had taken the wrong approach, he'd forgotten that he needed to explain figures of speech to Smaug as if he was talking to a wide eyed halfling child. Bilbo waved his hands, trying to get the gold lusting dragon's attention, "Smaug you cannot take my heart- I would die!"

The dragon's eyes narrowed at this challenge, his hands folding in front of his face- one of his habits that meant he was thinking seriously about something, "I know that, little Burglar but... I can keep you here."

Bilbo frowned, "You can't just keep me captive- beside my heart isn't gold! It really isn't. It's just flesh and blood, like yours no doubt," he tacked on to the end of his sentence a little grumble, "though sometimes I do wonder."

Smaug took no heed of the sensible explanation, "No doubt that's why those greedy dusty smelly dwarves keep you around. It couldn't just be the burglary." Smaug wrinkled his nose at the reminder of the mountain/precious ore/granite smell that lingered around most of the unsavory dwarfish race, "I shan't let you go back to them again, they might take it for themselves."

The hobbit groaned, "Look if you're so put out about it... It won't do good for me to be kept there. I won't like it and I'll forever to be desiring to go back home to my hobbit hole." Bilbo sighed as he thought of it, "I do wish this adventure was quite over. My Tookish side is tired and I find the respectful Baggins in myself is desirous of home."

Smaug eyed the suddenly forlorn hobbit before he snapped, "Fine, come then. We're off."

"Off?"

"To the dwarves."

Bilbo frowned, "What are you talking about?"

Smaug whirled and to the halfling's great surprise his few dragon features that had always stayed with him in his transformation were shrinking and disappearing into his flesh, "There is one obvious solution, Master Baggins. You cannot bear to stay here and I don't wish to part with you or that heart of gold. So I shall follow you."

Bilbo spluttered, "But- what- you just can't- what about your treasure?"

Smaug eyed the massive pile of precious jewels, glittering gold, and shimmering silver- the desire of men everywhere. He then turned up his nose at it, like a child disdainful of a vegetable he disliked appearing on his plate, "I grow weary of it."

Bilbo's mouth opened and closed before he puffed, resignation apparent from the top of his curly head all the way down to his large hairy bare feet, "Well it's one way to get rid of a dragon, though a bit unconventional."

Smaug flounced off, terrible black robes billowing behind him in a pale imitation of wings, "I am hardly conventional. Now come, I wish to leave. Your dwarves may repossess the treasure and this Lonely Mountain for all I care."

Bilbo followed quickly, "But what shall I tell them, Smaug? And I can hardly call you Smaug for they will wonder how a man as arrog- I mean, as proud and grand as a dragon suddenly appeared from within Smaug's former lair with the same exact name."

Smaug turned, arching brows turned down, "I had not thought of that, but I do have an idea for a name that would suit me in my weaker human form.... Sherlock."

Bilbo tested it before he nodded, "Well alright then Sma- I mean, Sherlock. I've got an idea, but we're going to have to be very careful about how we go about it..."

* * *

 

"You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Well of course."

"You really are serious."

"Yes, why wouldn't I be? I said this is what I wanted to do, are you doubting my word, Bilbo?"

"No! No, no. It's just.... Why would you want to leave all of this coveted gold and silver just to go on adventures with with a small homesick hobbit? I'm just ordinary, just me. I'm just Bilbo Baggins and you're the mighty tremendous Smaug."

"Because, little halfling, you are far greater than you can possibly imagine." A pause and then, "Also, it's mind numbingly boring up here alone."

"There it is...."

* * *

 

Bilbo returned much later that day, when the orange sun hung heavy and low in the autumn sky. A lone star was just beginning to peep cautiously out from vast blue-black expanse overhead, yellow, orange, and pink ribbons of light melting into the darkness of the sky.

The hobbit huffed and puffed, hands to his knees when the worried dwarves caught him running out of the tunnel, he gasped, "Smaug! Smaug is coming!"

The dwarves, startled and, with the rustling of leather and clanking of chainmail, they began to look around the sky, but they could see nothing. Then the mountain rumbled and the great scarlet dragon soared up into the sky like a fiery beast, the gems coating his underbelly sparkled in the last dying rays of the sun. It roared, voice drowning out all other sounds and shaking the very mountain beneath their feet and hobnail boots. The dwarves panicked, shouting and grabbing their bundles of food and drink and treasure. Great gusts of wind created by the flapping of Smaug's massive leathery wings pushed them forward. They stumbled into the mouth of the cave at Bilbo's urgent gesturing. The dragon bellowed tongues of orange and yellow-tinged flame that nipped at the heels of the hastily retreating dwarves. Once each and every one had disappeared into the cavern, Smaug let out another terrifying earth-shattering roar. His great sharp claws scraped at the cave, causing the rocks to fall over the entrance, effectually blocking their escape and his entrance. Smaug took flight heading towards Dale, taking the next step in Bilbo's and his rather genius plan.

* * *

 

 

After what would become known in history as the Battle of the Five Armies, after Thorin's tragic death and the fall of a numerous number of the party, after Smaug was shot down by Bard the Bowman's arrows (for some reason he was able to vanquish the fearsome dragon without having to use his Black Arrow) and sunk into the lake, no one questioned the sudden and strange appearance of an elf-like man.

Gandalf quirked an eyebrow at the man, 'Sherlock', and his odd possessiveness over the annoyed hobbit but that was all anyone had to say about it. He was a great help on the journey home even though it's escapades were mild in comparison to the journey towards the Lonely Mountain.

Bilbo was never again viewed as respectable in the eyes of his fellow hobbits, for who had ever heard of a halfling who's best friend was a man with ridiculous habits? He only ate meat and he had the tendency to hoard shiny things, whether or not they were actually his. Sometimes when he was angry or if a hobbit said something mildly offensive towards Bilbo about his strange wont towards adventure, Sherlock would seem to grow and flare scarlet, eyes narrowing into slits. They would retract whatever comment they'd dared to put forth after the threatening hiss of, "Take it back, little fool."

When Bilbo's young nephew, Frodo, came to live with them- Uncle Sherlock was half of the adventuring influence on his young delighted mind. Bilbo was also sure that Gandalf knew Sherlock was a dragon when he saw his room. (A pile of nearly everything shiny the dragon could find.)

Nevertheless, the two were quite happy and remained the best of friends till the end of their days.


End file.
